Variables & Constants
by C X V 1
Summary: The life of Doctor Spencer Reid is one of tumult and instability. Emily's death still haunts him. The headaches still plague him. The killers still kill. It seems as if there is no peace in his life, no safe haven, no sanctuary, no normalcy. All he wants in life is a constant, and he may have just met her. / Reid/OC /
1. One

**1**

* * *

A crowd of twenty-something year old undergraduate students was filing out of the doors when Jenny Faramond, 24, had to weave around them to get inside the classroom of her old high school teacher turned psychology professor. She stepped lightly in her black patent leather oxfords, struggling against the adversity of speedy students rushing to their next class. When she got through, she had expected to see a sixty-five year old intellectual with thick reading glasses and a signature smile; instead, however, she was met with the two bright hazel eyes and matching tousled hair of a man—a very young man, Jenny noted as she ran slim fingers through her own long, black, and tousled mane, a man that was indubitably _not_ her old teacher Mr. Hindley.

The young lady stared at the young man before her as he stood, one hand in the pocket of his grey slacks, and she was sure she looked like a classic deer in the headlights.

"Is that who I think it is?" A voice called out with a pleasantly inquisitive tone.

Jenny darted her eyes away from the young man and saw another person, one that had been standing back turned to her this whole time (how had she not noticed?), and let a huge smile wipe across her face. "Mr. Hindley," she exclaimed, accepting the man's offered hug. "Oh, pardon me," she smirked, "it's _Professor_ Hindley now, isn't it?"

Professor Hindley smiled fondly, "Oh what a pleasure it is to see my favorite student again. How long has it been?"

"Seven years."

"My goodness, look at you now, a Stanford graduate and ready to take on the world."

"What about you? You're a psychology professor now."

"Ah yes, yes, it's been nothing but wonderful." Professor Hindley glanced back towards the brown-eyed, brown-haired man he had been conversing with. "Speaking of which, this is Dr. Spencer Reid. I invited him here as a guest speaker for the students today. Doctor, this is Jenevieve, the brightest student I've ever had the privilege of teaching."

Jenny chuckled shyly at his bold compliment then extended a handshake for the doctor. "Jenevieve Faramond, it's a pleasure to meet you Dr. Reid."

Reid accepted the handshake, though not without a momentary, arbitrary hesitation first (he had a thing with physical contact sometimes). "Doctor Spencer Reid," he said, before continuing with, "Did you know the name 'Genevieve' comes from French expressions for 'white wave' and 'of the race of women' and is most commonly associated with the patron saint of Paris St. Genevieve, a fifth-century vegetarian nun known for her piety and corporal austerities and who is said to have protected Paris from Attila the Hun?"

"Actually," Jenny answered with a light-hearted laugh, "I did know that—googled it once just out of curiosity. I quite enjoy my name's feministic connotation, if I may say so myself." She tilted her head to the side and continued musing, "I'm definitely no patron saint though. My name's actually spelled with a 'J' and, considering my…aptitude for voracity, I don't' think I'll be getting into the whole vegetarianism and 'corporal austerities' shtick anytime soon."

Spencer let a throaty chuckle out, and Jenny felt her heart soar a little.

"So what brings you here today, Miss Faramond?"

"Oh, uh," said lady darted her attention back to Professor Hindley, "I was just going to drop by to say hi, and also ask if I could sit in for some of your lessons every now and then. I've got some free time on my hands these days and I quite miss your teaching style."

The old professor grinned, "Of course you can my dear, feel free to drop by during any of my afternoon classes—they start at 1, Monday through Thursday."

Jenny smiled back, "Great, thanks Mr., uh _Professor_ Hindley."

"My pleasure."

Jenny glanced between Professor Hindley and Dr. Reid. "I'll be on my way then!"

"I should get going as well," Spencer added, "thank you again for inviting me over today Professor Hindley."

"Nonsense Dr. Reid, thank _you_ for accepting! Jenny, I'll see you soon, yes?"

"Of course Professor, I'll drop by again tomorrow."

Spencer and Jenny then walked out the door, and Jenny was glad to see a hallway free from bustling, hard-to-get-pass students. She found that she and Spencer were heading in the same direction, and thought it polite to strike up some light conversation.

"So, Dr. Reid," she opened, making sure that she had his attention before continuing, "I'm assuming you got your doctorate in Psychology?"

"No actually," he answered, "I got them in Chemistry, Engineering, and Mathematics. Psychology is one of my Bachelor's degrees."

The young Stanford graduate's pace slowed from the traction of her dragging, sluggish steps—she was far too surprised to walk correctly. "You have three doctorates," she repeated as if trying to convince herself, "and psychology is _one_ of your Bachelor's…so exactly how many degrees do you have?"

"Six."

"What're the other two in?"

"Bachelor's in Sociology and Philosophy."

"How old are you?"

"28."

"Damn," Jenny stammered out, duly impressed, as her walking pace picked up again.

"So I've been told," Spencer replied jocularly. "So what did you study at Stanford?"

"Nothing up to your level, but I just recently got my Masters' in English Literature and Psychology, so I do have you beat in the 'science of mind' education area," Jenny joked, "although I'm pretty convinced now that you could get a Psychology doctorate in the blink of an eye if you wanted to."

The genius chuckled again, and Jenny felt a bubbling sense of accomplishment.

"Soo, what kind of work do you do? Teaching? Research? Do you write books?" The young genius intrigued Jenny to no end, and she looked eagerly towards him for answers.

Instead, she found him wincing in pain.

"Dr. Reid? Are you okay?" He stopped walking, face scrunching up in pain as he brought a hand up to rub his left temple. "Doctor? Doctor, are you okay?"

Reid groaned quietly and muttered, "Sorry Miss Faramond, it's just a headache."

Jenny's brows furrowed in concern, "it seems like a lot more than just a headache if you ask me, Doctor. Do you have some medicine with you or something?"

"No no," Reid denied quite vehemently, "I don't need medicine. Nothing's wrong with me, I just get bad migraines sometimes."

She was a bit confused now, but still worried, so Jenny asked the doctor if he had a ride home, for he really shouldn't be driving with such a severe headache.

Still fraught with pain, Spencer mumbled something about taking the Metro and not driving his car today, so Jenny felt compelled to offer her aid.

"I can give you a ride then."

"No it's alright; I'll just take the Metro back."

"Dr. Reid please, you should _not_be going around by yourself like that."

"I assure you Miss Faramond, it's not as bad as you think it is."

"Oh really now?"

"Yes."

Jenny stared at Reid with contemplation. "Let's go."

"What where?""

"Dr. Reid, I know you're not a medicinal doctor but you're clearly a smart man nonetheless, so you should know that what I'm offering you is a much safer alternative."

His head must've been throbbing very intensely now, because Jenny almost fell as she tried to catch the stumbling Dr. Reid, who'd lost his balance as well as his protesting attitude. "Y-you're right Miss Faramond, I'm sorry to trouble you like this."

So, with his arm slung over her shoulder, Jenny slowly accompanied Reid out to the parking lot and into the passenger seat of her cream Volkswagen Beetle, where she offered him a bottle of water and asked for his address (so she could use her GPS instead of pestering the poor, suffering man for directions), then began the drive to the Quantico home of Dr. Reid.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"I'm really sorry to have troubled you."

"It's okay, _really_; I volunteered to give you a ride."

"I appreciate it."

"No problem," she smiled, pulling the car up by the sidewalk in front of Spencer's apartment building. "Are you sure you're okay Dr. Reid?" Jenny had always been a very cautious person, and that trait extended beyond concern for her _own_ welfare.

He smiled weakly, "It'd be a lie if I said I was completely fine but, I'll manage. Thanks again for the ride." Reid slowly got out of the car, and was just about to go into his building when Jenny could out with alert.

"Dr. Reid!"

He turned around.

"You forgot your spiffy messenger bag," Jenny grinned with an outreached arm and a hand holding the bag strap.

Spencer sheepishly grabbed his bag. "Thank you Miss Faramond. Again."

"Call me Jenny."

"Spencer then."

"It was nice meeting you, Spencer."

"Likewise, Jenny."

Jenevieve Faramond watched Dr. Spencer Reid as he walked into his building before she started up her car—just to make sure the man she had met but an hour ago was indeed "managing."

* * *

**"Every moment has infinite potential. Every new moment contains for you possibilities that you can't possibly imagine. Every day is a blank page that you could fill with the most beautiful drawings." **

**-John C. Parkin**


	2. Two

**2**

* * *

Spencer Reid was in a foul, foul mood today.

He had woken up to a headache that he thought he'd gotten rid of last night, seen only empty shelf when looking for his instant coffee, and discovered that, to make his already ear-splitting migraine worse, his sunglasses were missing. Then, as if such morning misfortune was not enough, the 8 A.M. coffee rush left him with the wrong drink, the Metro nearly shut the door in his face, and the work elevator made him wait a record 73 seconds (Or was it 74? He couldn't even properly keep time.). By the time he'd made it to his desk in the bullpen he was just about ready to throw in the towel.

Then his phone rang.

And on the other end of the line was a soothing mellow voice that chimed an oddly familiar " ?" Then mumbled, "Oh wait no uhm, Spencer?"

Reid pondered upon the caller's identity before hesitantly answering, "Is this…Jenny?"

"Yeah! How'd you know?"

He smiled. "Lucky guess?"

"I didn't know geniuses needed luck," Jenny quipped teasingly.

"Just every now and then."

"Well, lucky for you, I believe I found your sunglasses—did you happen to lose a pair?"

Spencer recalled the morning frustration his missing spectacles had caused. "Yes in fact, I did."

"Black, right?"

"Yep."

"Splendid. So how shall I return them to you?"

"Whenever and wherever is most opportune for you."

"Hmmm, you work for the BAU right?"

Spencer was duly confused. "Yes but, how do you know that?"

"Oh!" Jenny exclaimed, "Sorry, Professor Hindley told me—that's also how I got your number by the way. I hope that doesn't come off as creepy…"

"No, no it doesn't," Spencer chuckled.

"Great," she smiled, "Well anyways, I've got a part-time job at a café nearby so…I can come drop your sunglasses off afterwards. If you want, I mean."

The profiler considered it, but didn't want to trouble the lady too much. "When does your shift end?"

"Hm? Uh, 12."

"I'll drop by the café; I'm on lunch break then."

This took Jenny by surprise (pleasant surprise.) "Sure thing, it's called Saga, by the intersection of Anderson and Canary."

"Okay, thanks."

"No problem. I gotta get back to work but, I'll see you later?"

"Yes."

"Great. Bye Spencer."

"Bye."

The 28 year-old settled back into his paperwork feeling a bit lighter and happier, only to be interrupted by a most curious Derek Morgan.

"So who was that?"

"No one." Spencer answered laconically, hoping to nip the conversation in the bud before Morgan started teasing.

Morgan raised a brow. "No one…or 'Jenny'?"

"She's just a friend."

"Oh really now, Wonder Boy…or should I start callin' you Ladies' Man now?" he smirked.

"Preferably neither," Reid countered. "Don't you have paperwork to do?"

The two shared a brief stare down before Morgan decided to let the boy off the hook—this time—and got back to his own stack of files.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"_Some_body's excited." 27 year-old Lilian Eppes brushed her long brunette hair out of a tight ponytail as she watched her fellow waitress changing quite speedily out of her Saga uniform.

"Am not."

"Honey, it's only been a few weeks since we met but I've known you long enough to see that _you_ are changing like it's race today."

"You're exaggerating Lili," Jenny countered while swiftly slipping on her loose black and grey paisley mini-dress.

Lili gave her an "oh really now?" stare.

"Okay, so I'm in a rush. I'm just meeting up with a friend."

"Oooh," Lili said in a sing-song voice, "you got a date."

Jenny blushed. "It's not a date, he's just coming to get the sunglasses he left in my car the other day."

"So it _is_ a guy, _and_ he was in your car." Lili smirked. "How scandalous."

"Oh shut up," Jenny laughed.

"Mhmm, I'll see you later then—have fun with your 'friend.'"

"Yeah yeah, bye Lili." The brown-eyed Standford graduate exited the café's changing room and immediately began searching for a certain sunglasses-deprived genius. To her delight, she quickly spotted said man at a small table for two across the room.

"Nice to see you again."

Spencer looked up from the book he was currently entertaining and saw Jenny settling into the seat across from him. "Likewise," he replied.

"Have you eaten yet?"

"No, you?"

"Not yet but I'm pretty hungry right now."

"'Aptitude for voracity,' am I right?" Reid quoted, eliciting a bubbly laugh from Jenny.

"Got that right, I'm no St. Genevieve."

The waiter came by but a minute later, jotted down their order of two chicken carbonaras (chosen at Jenny's recommendation), and went off to the next table.

"So, here are your sunglasses," Jenny rustled them out of her bag.

"Thanks."

"So…" Jenny stirred her iced tea around with the straw, "how long have you been having them?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Your uh, your headaches."

She was answered with a tense silence.

"Sorry, you don't have to answer," Jenny fumbled with her words, "I was just wondering because you seemed kind of used to it yesterday and you've got sunglasses for light sensitivity and everything…"

"About half a year now," Reid answered slowly and cautiously, as if it were something to be scared of. "176 days to be precise."

Jenny gawked. "Have you been to the doctor's yet?"

She was met with a frustrated sigh. "Several," he answered, almost lamented, "and every single one said there was nothing wrong with me…physically."

_Physically_, _he said_, Jenny noted before, upon seeing the discomfort of Spencer's countenance, decided that she shouldn't prod into too much right now. "Well…are you okay right now?"

Spencer paused. "Yes actually…I feel fine right now." It was an odd anomaly Spencer realized, for usually a bad start to his day meant a bad rest of the day as well, yet here he was now feeling—dare he say it—decidedly good.

"So what kind of work do you do for the BAU? Profiling?" Being the psychology major she was, Jenny found the Behavioral Analysis Unit to be especially interesting.

"The job varies but I specialize in geographic profiling for the team."

The part-time Saga waitress nodded in understanding, "You know, I took a Criminology course my sophomore year in college and I mean honestly, the things you guys can figure out are just _amazing_." The two shared a smile.

"Were you considering a career in Criminology?"

Jenny drummed her fingers against the table. "I did for a while, but I realized I liked literature and writing more. Then again," she grinned goofily, "I kind of secretly dreamed of being like David Rossi—a profiler _and_ a best-selling author, now _that_ would be spectacular."

"Rossi is a pretty great guy," Spencer commented nonchalantly.

"You work with him don't you?"

"Every day."

Jenny sighed and fell back into her chair, muttering "I'm so jealous" under her breath and earning a chuckle from Spencer.

"So what are you doing in Quantico?" Spencer inquired, recalling some random statistic about how college graduates tended to gravitate towards more populated cities.

"A number of reasons," Jenny answered. "I mean, for one, I wanted to come to the east coast for a change of pace—I was in Southern California for most of my life so Virginia's a really nice contrast, "she elaborated. "Also, I got an internship nearby at the Townhouse Publishing Company and Professor Hindley offered me some, like, student-teaching-esque position."

Spencer nodded, impressed. "That's great."

"It really is, isn't it?" Jenny grinned. "After I got my degrees I was thinking about taking some time off before going back to school for my doctorates, especially since I graduated early—though not as early as you," she added jovially. "_You_ are what we call an exception."

When their plates had come and gone, Spencer had to pause the steady conversation he and Jenny were having upon noticing the time. "Jenny, I'm sorry but I have to get back to work at 1."

"Did you walk here?" she asked.

"Yes, it took 10 minutes and 54 seconds."

Glancing at her own watch, Jenny saw that it was now 12: 51. "Well it's a bit late for walking so how 'bout I give you a lift?" she offered, not wanting to make Spencer late.

Reid toyed with the idea. "If it's not too much trouble then…I'm inclined to accept."

"Perfect! Let's go, I'm parked out back."

The BAU headquarters was but a few minutes away by car, and Spencer and Jenny arrived promptly at 12:57. As he was about to bid goodbye and leave, Spencer turned back to the driver and, along with a thanks, offered to take her up to meet Rossi. The offer, he noted, lit her eyes up brightly.

"Are you serious?" she gawked.

"Sure, I don't see any reason to think contrarily. I'm sure Rossi would enjoy meeting you."

"Dr. Spencer Reid, _you_ are simply wonderful."

* * *

**"Sometimes it takes a wrong turn to get you to the right place." **

**-Mandy Hale**


	3. Three

**3**

* * *

Upon entering the large FBI building that housed the BAU headquarters, Jenny was struck by a few among many things: one, the immense number of busy, suited professionals; two, the incessant ringing of phones and the divers of voices answering them; three, the seemingly commonplace presence of many, many security cameras; and four, the ever poignant smell of coffee wafting through the air.

"We're on the 10th floor," Spencer's voice interrupted the torrential sensory overload that presently swept over Jenny as he motioned towards the elevators across the room.

"Hm? Oh! Alright," she reigned in her wandering mind and followed the genius into an open elevator compartment and they headed up to the 10th floor.

"Here's the bullpen. When we're not working on cases, we spend the majority of our time here at our respective desks—usually doing the requisite paperwork," Spencer explained.

As the two walked over to what Jenny figured was Spencer's desk, a few pairs of curious eyes peered over at her, followed closely by the approaching of their owners. One of them, a tall, well-built, and chocolate-skinned man, casually leaned an elbow against Reid's shoulder (for the former was tall enough to do so), and raised his eyebrows suggestively.

"Well now, who is this, Boy Genius?" the man inquired as a rather petite and very pretty blonde woman walked up to the three with some manila folders in hand.

"Oo, Spence, is there someone you'd like to introduce?" she chimed expectantly.

Seeing as Boy Genius was a bit preoccupied with glaring at Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome, Jenny took it upon herself to give a proper introduction. "I'm Jenevieve Faramond—call me Jenny though," she said, extending a warm handshake to the blonde woman in front of her, "I'm uh, a recently acquainted friend of Spencer's."

The woman looked mischievously at Spencer and then introduced herself to Jenny. "Jennifer Jareau—but you can call me JJ." She then grabbed the other man with what looked like a surprising powerful grip and said, "And _this_ is Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan. Most of us just call him Morgan."

"But you, Miss, can call me _anytime_," Morgan quipped, throwing Jenny a borderline quixotic flirtatious wink.

Jenny chuckled and jocularly replied, "Nice to meet you, Anytime."

"Anytime" gave her an impressed smirk. "Girl's got spunk, I like it." He then tousled Reid's hair. "Good eye kid."

"What's all this commotion about?" A voice called out from a desk behind Morgan, JJ, and Reid.

Morgan turned to the man talking. "Reid brought his _friend_."

"Oh, well now this is something to see," and the man strode over to join the group. "Hello Reid's _friend_, it's nice to meet you."

Jenny gawked then looked expectantly at Reid, who smiled and said, "Jenny, this is SSA David Rossi."

The girl let an excited grin plaster across her face. "It's a huge honor to meet you Agent Rossi," she said, extending a hand, "I'm Jenevieve Faramond and, uh, forgive me it sounds excessively trite but I have legitimately read all of your works—repeatedly, if I may add—and _every_ _single_ _one_ of them is just as, as frighteningly and piercingly brilliant as the next." Jenny chose her words with care and genuineness, for Rossi's books were truly some of the most psychologically insightful works she'd ever read.

Rossi listened to the girl attentively, and felt genuinely flattered by her praise. "You—" he said, smiling and pointing at Jenny, "I like."

Jenny's smile grew wider. "My sentiments exactly, Agent Rossi."

He chuckled. "Rossi to you, my dear."

"And Jenny to you."

"So what brings you to the BAU on this fine day?"

"Uhm," Jenny and Reid glanced at each other, "I was just dropping Spencer off and he asked me if I wanted to meet you; he knew I was…kind of a big fan."

"Dropping him off?" Morgan cut in. "Were you two out on a lunch date?" he gave Reid a teasing look, one that was mimicked by JJ and Rossi, much to Reid's dismay.

Jenny chuckled and figured she'd help Spencer out. "We met the other day at a university through an old high school teacher of mine who's now a psychology professor there and I ended up finding the pair of sunglasses he lost, so we just met up today so I could return them."

"Exactly," Spencer quickly and quite adamantly agreed.

The other three people exchanged knowing glances, smirked, and just shrugged and murmured the likes of "yeah, okay, whatever you say."

Just then, Jenny's phone beeped. Caught off guard, so quickly pulled it out and checked the message she'd just received. "I'm sorry guys, I have to run—a friend of mine needs a lift. It was really nice meeting all of you though," she grinned.

"You should drop by again sometime," JJ proposed fondly.

"That's right, it's nice to see Reid being social for once," Morgan chuckled, earning a glare from Reid and giggle from Jenny.

"JJ and Morgan speak wisely, "Rossi concurred, "it would be a pleasure to have you drop by again Jenny."

"I'd love to," Jenny agreed. "Hey Spence, thanks again for lunch," she chimed mirthfully, (to which Spencer smiled and replied that it was no problem) "I'll see you guys then, bye!"

The moment Jenny stepped out of the bullpen and into an elevator, the attention zeroed in on Reid, the boy genius who, as far as the BAU family was concerned, had just gone out on a lunch date with a girl.

"So," JJ mused with ostensible innocence, "she sure is pretty."

"Intelligent too," Rossi remarked, "and she has an impeccable taste in books."

"So Reid, did you get her number?" Morgan inquired.

Before Reid could answer, another voice interrupted. "Did he get whose number?"

Morgan looked behind him and saw Garcia walking into the bullpen. "Oh baby girl you just missed her."

Garcia stopped in front of her BAU family looking confused and curious. "Who? Who'd I miss?"

"Reid's 'friend'," JJ answered, smirking.

The tech analyst's eyes lit up and her smile beamed with bubbling excitement. "Ooo what's her name?"

"Jenny," Morgan replied, "and let me tell you baby girl, she is _fine_."

Reid looked aghast. "Morgan!" he chided sharply, a reaction Garcia observed with absolute glee.

"Ooo my dear genius, you like her!"

"There is no need for any of you to pry into my private life," Reid countered, strategically avoiding Garcia's claim. As much as he loved his BAU family, he really wished they'd quit babying him all the time. Lucky for Reid, they were cut short this time.

"We've got a case," came the ever-serious voice of Aaron Hotchner.

As the team rustled into their meeting room, Garcia managed to get in one last remark about Jenny. "Boy Wonder, you are to invite her back the second this case is over so Mama Bear over here can get a good look at her, are we clear?" She pointed her feathery, bedazzled purple pen in front of Reid's face.

Reid frowned, embarrassed. "Focus on the case, Garcia."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.—

"A jogger discovered the body of 23-year-old university student Anna Kiguchi this morning in the Fredericksburg neighborhood of West Park. Local authorities have confirmed that Kiguchi's death was indeed a homicide and encourage anyone with information to contact the Fredericksburg Police immediately."

Jenny sighed, drumming her fingers against a cup of lukewarm green tea as she glanced around the room at her fellow café customers. Not a single one seemed to be giving a second thought to the news report broadcasting across the café's many large, flat-screen TVs propped on the walls. To them, Jenny thought, it was all just a faded part of their daily routines; just background noise and a flashing screen to watch as they thought about other more "important" things. She'd only been in Quantico for about a month and half now and she wondered if, one day, she'd become like them too. Quickly burying the thought, Jenny tossed her empty cup, exited the café, and headed towards the publishing firm where she was interning.

Walking up the steps and into the lobby of the Townhouse publishing firm, Jenny happened to stride by a bulletin board filled with various advertisement and news flyers. Serendipitously, a certain flyer caught her attention. "_Lo straniero_," it read, followed by "Luchino Visconti (1967)" and "based on Albert Camus' _L'Étranger._" Spencer had been reading _The Stranger_ when she met him at the café the other day, Jenny recalled, and it had even been the original French version at that. Perhaps, Jenny ventured, he'd be interested in seeing the movie? Maybe even…with her? It was an…enticing idea, she conceded (with a blush creeping into her cheeks); it wouldn't do any harm to ask him now would it?

Taking mental note of the movie screening's time, date, and location with a flutter in her heart, Jenevieve headed to the elevators, her hand unconsciously fumbling with the cell phone in her pocket; her mind unknowingly wandering to a certain Camus aficionado.

* * *

"**Sometimes you break your heart in the right way, if you know what I mean." **

**-Gregory David Roberts**


	4. Four

**4**

* * *

It's not like he didn't have eyes. Even Spencer thought girls were pretty every now and then.

So why?

Why, he wondered, were the shiny black locks and bright, dark brown orbs of Jenevieve Faramond somehow paramount to those of the other girls?

Perhaps, he explicated, her facial length, eye, nose, and mouth spacing, and various other features measured closer to the golden ratio of symmetrical beauty and physiological appeal to the human eye.

Or maybe it was the way the corners of her eyes lifted with her pearly white smile and the glimmer she got in her eye when he was talking, the one that made him feel like she was actually interested in his words. Or maybe it was the endless wit and knowledge and insightful musings that graced her lips and the soothing, velvet voice that his ears were privy to.

He blushed.

Then again, it could just be the facial symmetry….

Right?

…

"Reid? Hey Reid! Snap out of it, kid,"

"What?" Reid sputtered, jumping in his seat on the jet, yanked out of his trance.

Morgan looked on with a suspicious eye. "Plane's landed kid. We're back."

"Oh," was the absent-minded answer Morgan received, and the agent reacted with a skeptical stare that Reid knew well.

"I'm fine Morgan," he intoned, "I'm just tired from the case."

"Right."

With that, the two got off the BAU jet and, as was routine, ended up back in the good ol' bullpen, where an open-armed tech analyst ebulliently awaited them despite the ungodly hour of their return.

"Welcome back my loves," she said to a soporific team of five. "Job well done, as usual."

The six chatted congenially but only briefly, for they all had other things on their mind, like down comforters and silk pillowcases. As everyone began shuffling out, Garcia cornered Reid.

"Now I know it's too late tonight, but I am not letting you off the hook, understand?"

Spencer furrowed his brows, confused for but a transient moment, then opted for a pout. "Garcia I—"

"Ah," she interrupted, "I will have none of your genius nonsense; you are to bring this pretty lady friend of yours to me _primum quam primum_." Her face then lit up as if stricken by the lightning of a brilliant idea. "Ooo," she squealed, "invite her to our dinner on Friday!"

"What?" Reid replied incredulously. "You want me to just randomly ask her to dinner? Garcia, I just met her a week ago, you can't expec—"

"Ooo, this is going to be so great," the tech analyst gushed, leaving Reid's protest alone and forgotten on the floor. "You run on home now smarty-pants, Miss Matchmaker over here has got to change those reservations!"

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

There was this thing called impulse, and, for the entirety of her post-childhood life, Jenny had had few encounters with it. She liked to think of herself as a cautious person, specifically when it came to two particular things: money and relationships. So there was a curious exhilaration coursing through her veins (she was probably just over-reacting) as she walked away from the ticket booth with two pre-purchased tickets for _L'Étranger_ and every intention of gathering herself up and asking Spencer to accompany her on a night out.

Certainly this was impulse, for she'd seen the movie flyer just this morning. She felt reminiscent of a free-spirited rebel, one who'd broken years of frugality (she avoided the term "stinginess") on a whim. Sure, it was just thirty bucks total, but she was the type who stood in front of fast food menus contemplating the respective pros and cons between choosing a dollar burger or a dollar twenty-five sandwich. Yet now she'd just dropped thirty bucks down without much of a second thought.

And for a guy, no less.

_Sure as hell better be worth it_, she joked to herself, _I didn't spend fifteen dollars apiece for nothing._

Admiring said fifteen dollar prizes, she walked blindly down the sidewalk, oblivious to the obstacles around her till she hit one head first, her tickets fluttering down to the ground like dead leaves.

"I'm so sorry! I was not looking where I was going at al—Spencer?"

Rubbing his chin, which had been the primary receiver of blunt impact, Spencer was about to offer his own apologies when he heard his name. "Jenny!" he exclaimed, jerking back in great surprise.

"Am I _that_ scary?" she inquired, amused by Reid's dramatic reaction.

"No," he sputtered vehemently, "You uh, you just startled me a bit."

"A bit…?"

"Yes. Just a bit."

"Righttt," Jenny smirked.

Spencer nodded nervously in confirmation. What was he supposed to tell her? That he was only so surprised at her spontaneous appearance in front of him because he'd been thinking about her just moments before, and that, despite all his skepticism against pseudoscience, for a moment he'd thought he'd managed to conjure her out of thin air with just a thought?

Yeah, he could _definitely_ tell her that.

Before he was able to continue his inner monologue, he noticed Jenny bending down and picking two paper rectangles up which, he realized, happened to be movie tickets for _L'Étranger_, one of his favorite French novels.

"Are you a fan of Camus?" he questioned.

Tickets retrieved, Jenny replied cheekily, "Is the sky blue?"

"Well actually, due to the various particles in our atmosphere ligh—"

"Does the sky_ look_ blue," she rephrased, chortling at his response.

"Ah. Well. Yes, to me it does."

"And I am indeed a fan of Camus."

The two chuckled.

"So, uhm," Spencer cleared his throat, "you know when you came to the BAU the other day?"

"How could I forget?"

"Well we're all having dinner together on Friday and I was wondering if you'd like to join us," he asked sheepishly, hand rubbing his neck. "I mean, Rossi and JJ and Morgan want you to come and you didn't get to meet Garcia last time either and she's quite adamant about seeing you and…it would uh…be nice if you came. If you want to. That is."

Though he was a tad awkward, Jenny was sure Reid had just asked her out to dinner. Sure it was with the team, sure it might've been the others' idea, but he had definitely asked her (to her selective-thinking prone mind, that was all that mattered), and the product was a very wide grin. "I'd love to come," she said, trying to sound calm, and Reid's face lit up. "But…"she added, trying to sound cryptic, and Reid's face fell a little, "only on one condition."

Now Reid was just confused. "What condition?"

Jenny held up the two tickets with her left hand, plucked one of them out with the thumb and pointer of her right, and held it out expectantly in front of Spencer. "Accompany me to the movies afterwards."

_Now_ he was shocked. He glanced back and forth between the ticket and Jenny. "That ticket's for me?"

"Only if you're a fan of Camus."

Spencer accepted the ticket happily. "How could I not be?"

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

A shocking realization hit Spencer Friday morning. He had gotten out of bed, showered, dressed, grabbed his bag, locked the door, grabbed coffee and breakfast, boarded the Metro, and arrived at his desk in the bullpen as normally as any other person would have.

That was new.

That was definitely new. When was the last time Spencer had had a normal morning? Imagine that: a genuinely normal, head-ache free morning. Why, even with his memory, he'd forgotten how wonderful it was to wake up without ten thousand needles pricking at his head. In fact, Reid realized, he didn't even bring the sunglasses he'd been inseparable from to work today. In retrospect, Reid noticed he hadn't needed them at all this week. Maybe…he ventured, he was finally getting better. But why? He had read hundreds of books on migraines and headaches, their physical causes and psychosomatic stressors, and their different cures and remedies. He'd tried it all; none had worked. So what was different now? What was new?

"What're you smilin' about, pretty boy?"

Spencer's eyes flew up to see Morgan. "I'm not smiling," he denied.

Morgan looked unimpressed. "You're still smiling Reid."

He was?

Oh.

He was.

Spencer quickly pulled his upturned mouth straight. "No I'm not Morgan."

"Not anymore you're not," Derek guffawed. "You're thinkin' about _her_, aren't you?"

Her?

Jenny.

She was different.

She was new.

He met her a week ago.

His migraines stopped a week ago.

So what did that mean?

Correlation?

Or causation?

He liked the sound of causation better. Much better.

"Wow, you're really whipped," Morgan added, replying to Reid's lack of an answer.

Spencer frowned, hiding his embarrassment. "Am not."

The muscular agent smirked, "Denial doesn't suit you kid."

Spencer was silent. He abruptly shut the file he was working on and slammed his pen on top of it. He then grabbed a stack of files to his right, stood up, pushed his chair out, and strode over to a desk about two yards away from his while Morgan looked on with interest. Spencer uncaringly dropped the large stack onto the desk, strode back over to his own desk, settled back into his own seat, and turned to a wide-eyed Morgan. "Looks like you have some paperwork to finish Morgan," he innocently mused, not bothering to look up from his own files lest he be unable to hold back his triumphant smirk.

"Oh, playing offense now, are we?" Morgan retorted, entertained, impressed, and a little bit pissed.

"Not really, "Spencer responded nonchalantly, "I'm simply returning that which you gave me."

"Yeah, yeah, alright." Morgan held his hands up, as if surrendering. "I got it kid, I got it." He turned to leave when, out of the blue, he spun back around and smirked.

"So…is she coming to dinner tonight?"

_Is the sky blue?_

* * *

"**Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky."**

**-Rabindranath Tagore **


	5. Five

**5**

* * *

Jenny was feeling a little guilty right now…and a little selfish.

Reid had come knocking on her door at around 7, ready to drive her to the restaurant, for he had insisted on returning the favor. So then she came out, raven hair pulled up into a voluminous high bun, dressed in a maroon lace long-sleeve tucked into a black leather skirt, cinched at the waist with a metallic baroque belt. They had walked down the stairs and into his car accompanied by pleasant conversation—which continued during the fairly short 20 minute drive—and all the while Jenny had been secretly floating on cloud nine.

And then, "the team's really excited to have dinner with you" he said, and Jenny fell a couple clouds down. Right, she remembered, this was a team dinner, not a da—uh…_appointment_ for just the two of them. That's when the evil little guilt monster came parading in, and Jenny caught herself (then mentally slapped herself) immediately after. How embarrassing, she blushed, to be thinking like that.

She was reminded that not only was she a hopeless romantic, she was also a very selfish one, and now she was one with a terribly bad case of tunnel vision.

"Is something wrong?"

"Huh what?" Jenny sputtered, suddenly registering Spencer's concerned face as they stood in front of the restaurant entrance.

"You were uh," he cleared his throat, "staring at me."

Jenny mouthed an "oh" and darted her eyes away. "Uh, nothing's wrong. Let's head in to the restaurant; I'm sure everyone's waiting for us," she said, quickly reaching to push the glass doors open.

Spencer shrugged to himself then followed the lady in and, after asking a nearby waiter, led her towards the BAU team's reserved table.

"They're here!" someone squealed from across a couple tables, and two puffy blonde pigtails could be made out by Reid and Jenny.

"I'm guessing that's Garcia?" Jenny whispered to Reid as they arrived at the table.

Reid chuckled, "Unfortunately, yes."

"I like her," Jenny grinned.

"Quit whispering your little couple secrets over there kid," Morgan called out, using a voice louder than necessary.

Spencer threw a glare at Morgan. "Let's uh, go sit down then," he murmured to Jenny.

"Right. Yeah," she responded, feeling equally embarrassed (just as Morgan had intended, of course).

Then, Garcia came bouncing over and crushed the still flustered Jenny in a warm bear hug. "Oooooh, I am _so_ glad to finally meet you Jenevieve Fremont!"

"You're Penelope Garcia, right?" Jenny managed to choke out.

Releasing her hug, Garcia extended a handshake. "That is correct! I'm Penelope Garcia, world's brightest and hottest technical analyst; you may call me Penelope, Garcia, or Queen of the Universe."

Jenny smiled exuberantly. "Well, not to undermine your dominion over the universe or anything, but I think I'll go with Penelope."

"Ooh! Or Penny!" she proposed gleefully. "Then we can rhyme!"

Laughing, Jenny concurred. "Jenny and Penny, I like it."

"I as well, my love." Garcia returned the grin. "Oh," she exclaimed, spinning around to point at a man sitting at the table, "speaking of dominion, that man over there is our wonderful Unit Chief, _the_ Aaron Hotchner in the flesh."

"Pleasure to meet you Agent Hotchner," Jenny said, shaking his hand, "I'm Jenevieve Fremont—but call me Jenny."

"Good to finally meet you Jenny. You can call me Hotch."

The man's handshake was strong and firm, Jenny noted, just as a leader's should be. As she exchanged pleasantries with the rest of the team, Jenny noticed that, across from her and between Hotch and JJ, there was an empty seat. There was no way the two agents were trying to avoiding sitting next to each, for they were getting along wonderfully (just as the whole team was); then she saw a full, untouched glass of wine in front of the seat, and Jenny supposed that another friend of theirs was just late to dinner.

"So I hear you're a very smart cookie," Garcia chimed, pulling Jenny's attention away from the vacant chair.

"Uh, I'm alright, I guess," Jenny shrugged, flattered.

"You're 'alright?'" Garcia exclaimed, "Oh honey puh-lease, a high-school valedictorian and Stanford graduate like you can_not_ possibly be just 'alright'!"

"You were your high school valedictorian?" Spencer asked, impressed.

Jenny laughed dismissively. "Yeah, everyone made a really big deal out of it back then but now, I'm just the girl who got to make a speech and wear an extra little sash." Then she scrunched up her brows. "Wait, how did you know that Penelope?"

Garcia froze like a deer in the headlights and, in an effortlessly appropriate way, everyone else turned their stares to her.

"Garcia," Rossi said suspiciously, "did you do what I think you did?"

"Garcia," JJ intoned, making use of her motherly voice.

"Whaatt? You guys know I can't help myself when it comes to things like this," Garcia whined, earning an "oh dear" chuckle from the agents.

"Can't help what?" Jenny cut in, duly confused.

"Mhm well," Penelope explained, "I…worked my tech magic on you."

"She stalked you," Rossi reworded.

"Now wait a minute 'stalk' is a strong word, my Italian Casanova," the tech analyst rebutted.

"Accurate too," Reid reminded her.

"Ooooh you guys, you're gonna make Jenny scared of me!"

Said girl laughed at Garcia's little playful fit. "On the contrary Penelope, I think it'd be quite nice to know a professional stalker—I might have to have you look a few people up for me someday," she smirked.

"Oh honey, _anytime_. I knew I'd like you," Garcia squealed.

"Interesting reaction," Hotch interjected, eliciting laughs across the table.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"My god Rossi, you were right, the food here is _heavenly_," JJ gushed, setting her fork down on an empty plate.

"Most authentic Italian food in town," Rossi affirmed.

"You guys wanna head to a bar for some drinks?" Morgan offered, playing with his empty wine glass, and Garcia, Rossi, Hotch, and JJ all expressed their concurrence. "Reid, Jenny, you guys in for another round?"

Jenny and Spencer exchanged knowing glances. "W-we can't," Spencer answered.

"I'm really sorry guys, we've gotta go," Jenny apologized.

Unbeknownst to Reid and the Fremont, the rest of the BAU team was exchanging very subtle glances back and forth, smirks threatening to wipe across their faces, for—in a very clear manner—both Spencer and Jenny had said "we."

As in the both of them.

Together.

Was not this the epitome of adorable?

"Maybe next time then," Rossi offered, still trying to hold back that smirk.

"Of course!" the lady chimed. "Anyways, dinner was spectacular; I had a lot of fun." She and Spencer bid goodbye to their friends, gathered their stuff, and hurried out the door, for they had a movie to catch.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"You've got a sincerely _wonderful_ team, you know," Jenny complimented, sitting in the passenger seat of Reid's car as they headed towards the movie theater.

Reid chuckled, "And sincerely weird—sorry about Garcia."

"Not at all," she laughed, "she's so bubbly—I love it. By the way…"

Spencer glanced at Jenny, "what is it?"

"Was there someone else from your team that couldn't make it?"

"What do you mean?"

Jenny blinked a couple times. "Well, there was an empty seat between Hotch and JJ the whole night, so I figured they were saving it for someone."

Spencer replied with a melancholy frown, confusing Jenny.

"S-sorry, did I say something wrong? I was jus—"

"No," Spencer assured her solemnly, "You were right, it was for a friend." His frown deepened. "She…just couldn't make it tonight."

Jenny nodded. Something was definitely up; no matter how deep the friendship, Jenny doubted that anyone would be that sad just from a friend missing dinner. Spencer's sadness, peppered with melancholy hesitation, indubitably ran deeper than that—she didn't have to be a profiler to see that. "That's…too bad then," she said, unable to think of anything better to say.

"Yeah…too bad," Spencer smiled despondently, sounding like he was more so talking to himself than Jenny. "Anyways," he cleared his throat, "we're almost at the movie theater."

Jenny glanced out the window and saw the light-bulb bordered movie theater sign nearby. "Alright," she exclaimed, "let's go watch some Camus!"

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"So, what'd you think?" Jenny inquired, sipping the last of her (overpriced) drink.

Spencer tossed his and Jenny's empty drinks into a nearby trash can. "Well, Visconti was known for his au courant cinematography style and especially for his focus on Italian plotlines constructed to be appeals to pathos. His films are primarily described as symbols of Italian pride and artistic mastery, so I find it intriguing that he would produce a film based off of a French classic."

"Intriguing in a good way or a bad way?"

"Good. I think."

"You think?"

"The film deviates quite a bit from the novel, especially when you consider the lexicogrammatical disparities between the French original and the Italian interpretation."

"Ah," Jenny nodded, "same type of differences as the English translation of the novel, right?"

"Yup," Spencer confirmed. "So uh, what did you think?"

Jenny pondered upon the thought. "Hmm…the actor they cast for Meursault didn't quite fit the image I had of him when I read the book—not that he's a poor thespian or anything. I don't know…I rarely like movies more than the novel counterparts, but maybe that's just me."

"Books do have a certain irreplaceable, unmatchable appeal to them," Spencer commented.

"_And_ you just can't compare physical acting to the way Camus' writing expresses Meursalt's inner thoughts," Jenny mused. "Existentialism works better as a novel apparently," she laughed.

"Speaking of which, would you like to hear a joke?" Spencer grinned like a little boy, and Jenny couldn't help but say yes. "Okay. How many existentialists does it take to screw in a light bulb?"

With furrowed eyebrows, Jenny asked, "How many…?"

"Two. One to change the light bulb and one to observe how it symbolizes an incandescent beacon of subjectivity in a netherworld of cosmic nothingness," he exclaimed, beaming and chuckling.

Jenny stared blankly at the laughing Reid for a moment and then let out a guffaw. "Smart, handsome, _and_ funny—you're really something Dr. Reid."

Handsome? Oh, Spencer was sure he was blushing now. "Uhm, t-thanks," he sputtered out.

"You're very welcome," Jenny smirked. "Now, would you care to drive me home?"

Reid smiled. "Of course."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Thanks again Spencer," Jenny said fondly, standing outside her apartment door.

"It's nothing really," he replied, "I had fun."

"Me too—it was a huge pleasure meeting your BAU family."

Reid grinned, "They've all developed quite an affinity for you."

"I'm happy to hear that."

The two stared and smiled at each other, both feeling pangs of reluctance to separate.

"I uh, I guess I should go home then," Spencer finally said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Oh! Uh yeah, definitely, I don't want to keep you up too late," Jenny replied (a bit too enthusiastically).

"Oh no, it's fine, don't worry about that," he explained.

The Fremont suddenly reached out (it was that impulse thing again) and gave Reid into a light, brief hug. "I'll see you around then, yeah?"

Reid's pulse sped up (again); he'd been too surprised to return the hug. "Y-yeah," he choked out, "of course. Um…" He looked hesitantly at Jenny.

"What?" she asked.

Spencer awkwardly extended his arms out, embracing Jenny loosely as he muttered something about giving a proper hug. This time, Jenny was the stunned one, but her recovery was faster, and she gleefully returned the hug.

"Thank you for a most proper hug, Dr. Reid," she said, inwardly floating on a wave of euphoria.

"You're uh, welcome," he replied, secretly floating on the same wave (though it really was more of a vast ocean).

"Good night, Spencer."

"Good night, Jenny."

* * *

"**You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams."**

**-Dr. Seuss**


End file.
